


Mamihlapinatapai

by RemoCon



Series: The Second Time Around [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-09
Updated: 2012-09-09
Packaged: 2017-11-13 21:06:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/507712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RemoCon/pseuds/RemoCon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Out of all the people who could have kept keep popping up in Chris's life, Peter Hale was not one he would have picked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mamihlapinatapai

**Author's Note:**

> An enormous thank you to phlogistics for helping to make this what it needed to be.

Six months ago, Chris could’ve called his sister for help and actually been happy when she answered. He could’ve gone home, kissed his wife, complimented her on her cooking, and just held her while she smiled. He could’ve gone to sleep, satisfied that his daughter led a nearly normal and happy life. Today, all Chris could do was stare at the frozen vegetables in the grocery store, stuck, because he could not remember what Victoria used to buy and didn’t want to go home to Allison with the wrong brand. 

“With a face like that, someone might think you’ve seen a ghost,” came Peter Hale’s drawling voice. Chris tensed, hand reaching for an absent weapon.

“Stranger things have happened,” he said. To his left, he saw Peter step closer.

“Ah, but knock on wood. With everything that’s going on, do we really need to tempt fate and have Casper’s evil twin show up?” Peter said, rapping his knuckles on the glass freezer door. He chuckled. “Well, I suppose that’s not wood, but we make do with what we have.” 

“I’m not in the mood to deal with this, so unless you have something important to say, move along,” Chris said. 

“Can’t Team Good just have a friendly chat in the frozen food section now and then? Otherwise, what are we living for, really?” Peter asked, smirking. 

“The day you’re a part of Team Good is the day I retire,” Chris said. 

“I’m hurt! And after all we accomplished together last week,” Peter said. “But fine, I know when I’m not wanted.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Chris said, itching to shove Peter up against the freezer and cut out his annoying silver tongue. His father would’ve been proud, he thought darkly.

Peter smirked again, eyeing him and then the vegetables. 

“If we’re debating brands here, I’d go with the Bird Eyes, personally. Had a nasty encounter with a Not-So-Jolly Green Giant once. Absolutely no sense of humor as it turns out. Anyway. Have a great day, Chris,” Peter said. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.” 

“I’m sure,” Chris responded, watching as Peter sauntered down the aisle. He stared at the vegetables a few minutes longer.

Maybe they would just order out tonight. 

***

Allison might’ve wanted to come with him, if he’d asked. Or maybe she would’ve said that he was being silly, and how was he supposed to move on if he went to his wife’s grave every weekend? She got that look in her eye, every now and then, which just reminded him so much of Kate, that the part of him that ached over how he hadn’t noticed how wrong she’d gone until it was too late screamed to be careful. Gerard had already proven that side of Allison could be manipulated. 

He almost wished he could’ve reasonably requested that Victoria be buried as far away from Kate as possible. Sometimes he thought he could suffocate under the guilt if he let himself wallow too much. 

A voice broke into his thoughts: “Well, hello there. Lovely weather, isn’t it? Almost makes you think there should be little woodland creatures running around cleaning things.” 

Chris started, pivoting on the spot, his gun already out of its holster. Peter Hale, standing maybe three meters away, waved pleasantly. To twice now be snuck up on by a known enemy—he worried he was getting careless. The lone hunter could be killed just as easily as a lone wolf. He couldn’t let that happen, not here, of all places. 

“I would’ve thought even you would know enough to let a man mourn in peace,” Chris said.

“Or maybe I just know the dangers of letting a person think about these things too much,” Peter pointed out, a little too cheerfully. “I mean, after all, look what happened when I had six years to do nothing but think about the horrific murders of my family because of your lovely sister.” 

“If you’ve just come here to insult Kate, then--”

“Come on now, you’re certainly not the only one with family members buried here. It’s not a large town, there are only so many choices of cemetery,” Peter said, hands outspread before him in a gesture of peace.

“And, of course, today had to be the day you visited,” Chris replied. He could practically hear Kate screaming from her grave, demanding to know how he could just stand there and chat with her murderer. He squashed the voice down. Sometimes even hunters couldn’t escape the justice of the Code; those who kill innocents are killed.

Peter just stood there, looking like he could read Chris’s mind and that everything he heard amused him. 

“Derek was being extra broody, so I thought the best way to get away from his unending cloud of self-pity was to go visit the quieter parts of the family,” said Peter. Chris wondered what it took to get to that place, where suddenly death was a joke. Maybe it could only ever really be funny to a mind that had been as thoroughly destroyed as Peter’s. 

“You can put that gun down now, if you want. I just thought I’d come over and offer my shoulder,” Peter said. 

“Somehow I doubt that,” said Chris, holding the gun steady. Just because Peter hadn’t made any sort of power play yet didn’t mean he wasn’t still unstable, and Chris refused to be the next Argent to die because of the Hales. 

“Well, I’m around if you change your mind,” Peter said, something wicked twinkling in his eyes. “Have a nice day, Chris.” 

Chris watched him leave, holstering his gun only once Peter’s silhouette had faded into the nearby woods. He sighed, body still wracked with tension, and turned back to the tombstone. He brushed his fingers against the cold surface.

“I miss you,” he whispered to Victoria. “Allison does too.” 

There was more to say, more he had wanted to say before Peter had interrupted, but the words tangled in his throat. How Allison was shutting herself in her room every night and barely looked at him during dinner. How they still hadn’t found Gerard’s body. How badly it hurt to be relieved by his own father’s death. How Victoria might be ashamed of him for where his loyalties had fallen. 

And Kate— he glanced at his sister’s headstone, so close by—he still didn’t have anything to say to Kate. If it wasn’t for her, none of this would have happened. Chris would still have his family. He would still have someone besides _Peter Hale_ trying to talk to him. 

He took once last look, and headed off. That was the last time he visited the cemetery that year. 

***

Life didn’t stop once summer came. It merely slowed down, leaving Chris with ample spare time to think. He knew something big was coming, his sources claiming an alpha pack had been spotted near Beacon Hill, but there were no mysterious disappearances, no violent deaths. He didn’t like the calm before the storm. His sources couldn’t get specifics, so he was left unable to complete more than basic preparations and reconnaissance.

What he could do, he did alone. After Kate and Gerard, most other hunters were a little leery of helping out the Argents. Allison had begged off of patrols, unsure of herself or her place in the family business, and in all honesty Chris would rather see her locked away in her room than see a pair of claws slash her throat. 

He wanted to see her smile again—really smile, not the same faded and practiced one she gave him when he asked if she was okay—but he would take what he could get. 

“Trespassing is illegal, you know. I could call the police,” came Peter Hale’s voice. The man leaned against a tree, hidden mostly from view.

“I think you’d have a much harder time explaining how it is you’re here, what with those pesky assault and murder charges the police still have against you,” Chris said, disturbingly unsurprised. Stalking was something that happened to celebrities and prey, and Chris was neither. Yet the way Peter kept popping up—Chris struggled to find a different word.

“That hurts. And here I was just teasing you, and you have to go and make the whole thing so dark and depressing,” Peter said, sighing dramatically as he emerged from his hiding place.

“Just run back home. I don’t have any business with you tonight,” Chris said, starting to walk away.

“Wait!” Peter said, jogging over to him. “These woods can be dangerous at night. You shouldn’t be walking around alone. I’ll go with you.” 

Chris would’ve laughed could he have forgotten the deaths and torment caused by Peter’s hand. The earnestness in his voice raised the hairs on the back of Chris’s neck, and he had always been taught that if something felt suspicious, it probably was. But there was no strategic gain for Peter in killing Chris now—it would destroy Peter’s fragile place in Derek’s pack and bring down the ire of other hunters. Overall, a quick invitation to a painful death. Chris doubted even Peter’s ability to pull the resurrection card twice. 

“I’d hate to take time out of your busy schedule,” said Chris, subtly stepping back to allow himself reaction time should Peter to make a stupid move. 

“I insist,” Peter said. “I’d hate to see the one decent hunter around get killed.” 

“That wouldn’t have anything to do with the pack of alphas I’ve been hearing about?” Chris proposed, wondering if they were part of Peter’s game. He could be waiting for the right time to betray Derek, taking back the position of alpha and enamoring himself to them, though such a plan held a huge margin for failure. And Peter had, since his resurrection, taken no action against his nephew. If Gerard had proven people could change for the worse, Chris had to believe the opposite could still hold true.

“A pack of alphas?” Peter said, with a wide eyed innocence that didn’t suit him. “I don’t know how that would even work.” 

“Of course not,” Chris deadpanned.

“You know, some day your lack of trust might really hurt me,” Peter remarked. 

“I somehow doubt that. You don’t strike me as the kind of man who gets hurt by much of anything,” Chris said. Even if he didn’t believe Peter meant to make a move that night, he needed to be prepared. He may not stand a chance against a beta at such close range, but he’d at the very least make sure Peter felt a silver knife in his side as a last souvenir. 

“Well, after your sister nearly burned me alive in the fire that killed the rest of my family, everything else just seems so…trivial,” Peter said. He shrugged. “Except for bad hair days, of course. Those just make you want to die. Without good hair, everything else you put on is pointless.” 

“I strongly suggest either you shut up, or go home,” Chris said, hand twitching towards his gun. Peter’s eyes flashed yellow, observing Chris’s movements carefully. 

“Fine, I can be quiet,” Peter said lightly. Chris regarded him doubtfully, but he had no method besides violence with which to dissuade Peter, and relations with the Hale pack were still too strained for Chris to risk starting something here. He scowled and began to move on, Peter by his side.

Beyond all of Chris’s expectations, Peter stayed blessedly silent as they trekked across the forested edge of Beacon Hills, even settling for waving goodbye as morning came and Chris got into his van and pulled back out onto the road. 

Chris wondered what it said about the state of his life that the most pleasant night he’d had in recent memory had been spent wandering around the forest with Peter Hale. 

***

The first sign of trouble came not in some grand attack, but an individual mauling in some back alley, with the same tired excuse of a mountain lion attack getting trotted out by the coroner. Chris went down into the basement, gathering his favorite weapons assortment. 

Allison sat at the bottom of the stairs, biting her lip.

“Dad,” she said, as he put the last knife into place. “Maybe you could just stay home tonight.”

“Allison—"

“Never mind,” she rushed out, standing. “That was stupid. I’ll see you later, okay?”

For a moment, Chris seriously debated forgetting about the hunt for the first time in his life. Every sign pointed to an omega, drawn by the overwhelming number of alphas in the area. He had bigger issues to worry about—the alphas might even kill the omega themselves if he just left the situation alone. Allison, though, just gave him that tight little smile, and ran up the stairs. He found himself falling back into Gerard’s teachings. A rabid dog had to be put down—no exceptions.

Later, looking at the terrified face of the omega, strung up in a tree, he felt doubt seep in a second time. Gerard had perverted and flaunted the Code, yet here Chris was, still emulating his technique. He hesitated.

That was when he found himself flying through the air, slammed head first into a tree. Then everything went dark.

***

“I was beginning to worry I was going to have to kiss you and see if that did anything,” someone that sounded suspiciously like Peter Hale said. “Though, of course, I am far more like Prince Charming than you are like Sleeping Beauty.” 

Chris’s forehead throbbed. As his vision cleared, he saw that the figure was, much to his chagrin, actually Peter. 

“What happened?” he rasped. 

“Omega mates, very unusual,” Peter said, gesturing to two mangled bodies lying nearby. “Can’t really blame you for getting caught unaware.” 

Chris just stared. Maybe it was the concussion he highly suspected he had, but there was something off about the situation.

“You killed them,” he said slowly.

“Obviously,” Peter replied, standing. “Do you need any help getting to your car?” 

“Why?” asked Chris. 

“Because I’m a little concerned about your coordination at this point,” Peter said. 

“No, I…” As far as Chris could tell, Peter had killed the two omegas, and then sat next to him, waiting to make sure he was okay. What was he playing at?

“Fine, fine, but don’t blame me if you get trampled by a deer and die an inglorious death,” Peter sighed. “Try and be safe, Chris. One little incident is probably enough for tonight.” A moment later, he was gone. Chris, leaning heavily against a tree, slowly stood himself up. 

He found himself hoping, strangely, that Peter really meant to be trustworthy. He didn’t want this moment to just be something he owed to Peter later, when the battle truly commenced.

***

When Chris finally reached his car, he found Peter lounging against the front door. 

“Now that your pride’s been assuaged by your very manly, independent walk back to your car, I’ll take it from here. I think the citizens of our fair town have a hard enough time of it without having to deal with concussed drivers on their streets,” he said. Chris made a mental note to make absolutely sure the alarm was set from now on.

“So, keys please,” Peter continued, holding out his hand. “And don’t give me that look; I could just take them if I wanted to. I’m choosing to maintain the illusion of your free will, which I think you’ll agree is very charitable of me.” 

Chris didn’t want Peter in his car, much less driving it, but he couldn’t strictly say how he’d managed to get out of the forest, and his prospects of making it home alone seemed grim. 

“Fine,” he said, digging his keys out of his pocket. “But—”

“Be quiet or you’ll kill me, right?” Peter interrupted. “You’ve got to work on some new lines.” 

Peter walked around to the driver’s side without another comment, though, and Chris felt a little better once he climbed in the car, knowing where each hidden gun was stashed, and no longer having to focus on remaining upright. The ride home was unremarkable, except for Peter’s atrocious taste in music, and the awkwardness Chris felt over how deceptively normal the situation seemed. Something uncomfortably like gratitude settled in his stomach, easing part of the tension he usually felt around Peter away. 

Twenty minutes later, however, when Allison stood in their living room, pointing a crossbow at Peter’s head while Peter was about to hand Chris an icepack, brought back into sharp clarity that nothing about the situation was normal. 

“Dad,” Allison said, her voice strong and clear, like Chris had longed to hear for some time now, “Are you all right?” 

“He’s fine, just getting clumsy in his old age,” Peter replied. 

“I didn’t ask you,” Allison said. “And actually, you should get out of our house. Immediately.” 

“I’m fine,” Chris assured her, trying not to look longingly at the ice still in Peter’s hand. 

“I see I’m not needed here anymore,” Peter said, sighing. He dropped the ice into Chris’s hand, and smiled. “But I’ll see you later, Chris.” 

Allison rushed to Chris’s side as soon as Peter left. He knew she had questions, but as he put the ice against his forehead, Chris found he didn’t really have any answers. He missed the simplicity of life before Peter Hale had entered his. 

A better father might’ve told Allison to go to bed, but amidst all the chaos of the past year, it felt nice to just sit the rest of the night on the couch next to his daughter. Peter, and the rest, could wait until morning.


End file.
